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2012-08-15 Brotherhood of Minor Nuisances
The foghorn-like sound of an eighteen-wheel semi is probably the last thing that any of the residents of the Upper West Side expected to hear this morning. Especially one that sounds off over and over again, for almost a minute. The semi weaves its way through the streets forcing more than one car off of the road as it heads toward its destination: a high school. As the truck pull up in front of the school, the ever-costume-wearing Quicksilver opens up the drivers side and exits the vehicle, a John Deere truckers hat placed haphazardly on his head. This, of course, does not remain on his head very long, as he zips toward the back of the truck. Aside from being parked in virtually the middle of the road, the truck is completely non-descript, aside from a few dents and bulletholes in its sides. Angel heard the horn from his apartment and, after putting on a jacket to hide his wings, comes out to see just what is going on with the truck. His cell phone is out in case he needs to make a call to the police as he calls out, "Excuse me...you can't park here." He goes around to the back as if to see if there's an out of state license plate. New Yorkers should know better than to park in the middle of the street. The doors at the back of the truck open up, revealling a cargo space completely packed solid with cardboard boxes. Quicksilver would probably take more note of Angel's advice, if plenty of other people weren't also giving him the same advice, many of them in a far less polite fashion. But he says nothing to any of them. Instead, he seems to be focused on something much more interesting: the content of the boxes. He stands at the back of the truck in full regalia as if he were inviting someone to have a problem with him. But the mission is of primary importance, so he quickly begins unloading boxes. "Hey!" He may be polite, but Warren is still a New Yorker. "I'm calling the police..." the phone is out and dialed...no doubt the local dispatch is getting a bunch of calls. Noting the boxes, he gestures for the others in the crowd to back up..."Get out of the way...move...you don't know what could be in those." Of course, once they're out, he's going to go for one of them to open it. After all, better than he gets injured than any others standing around. Quicksilver doesn't seem to mind in the least if somebody happens to mess with one of the boxes. The boxes are piled up behind the truck at Quicksilver Speed, which is enough to convince basically everyone to mind their own business, or run screaming, in a few cases. Having unloaded the truck, Quicksilver looks around the area, surveying for... something. Apparently, what he was looking for was the nicest-looking, shiniest building. Having located it, he picks up one of the boxes and zooms off in its direction. All along the side of one of the buildings, posters begin to appear. They are slightly larger than normal flyers, and printed on red paper. The image on them is one of Magneto in full costume printed in a block stencil type with purple ink. He looks menacing, but has a hand outstretched as if to give a handshake. The caption at the bottom reads: "You Are Not Alone" Warren picks up one of the fliers from the box even as the dispatcher picks up the phone, "Yes, I'm calling from the Dorilton on the Upper West Side...we have someone plastering fliers on buildings. No, I don't see any permit. He's also illegally parked his truck here, blocking traffic." A few more details are given before he calls out towards the posters going up, "Hey! You! What the Hell is the meaning of this?" The first box of posters is quickly used up. Quicksilver blurs toward the truck just in time to get an earful of Warren's complaint. With another box in hand, the green-clad figure reappears right in front of the Concerned Citizen. "Isn't it obvious, monkey? It's propaganda! You probably won't be able to decipher the message with your primitive ape brain, but Our Brothers and Sisters will know what's up." And with that, he's gone again, and a row of posters appears on the wall of another unsuspecting building. Arching eyebrows at the explanation, Warren looks over as another building gets plastered with the posters. He keeps a hold of the one that he grabbed before he turns to the others, "Don't give this guy attention...that's what he wants. The cops are on their way." Once the crowd starts to disperse, he pulls out his phone again to make another call...this time to an exchange out to Westchester. Shaking his head, he starts back towards the entrance of his own building. The poster is still coming with him. That isn't the only poster that's going with him. On his way back from unloading his third box of posters, Quicksilver notices the 'monkey' who dared to stand up to him heading away. The change of expression isn't noticeable anywhere but in his eyes, and those are moving too fast for most people to notice. However, indulging his mischievous impulses is one of Quicksilver's trademarks, and so he zips up right behind Warren and staples a flyer to the back of his jacket. The rest of that particular box of fliers ends up stapled to a bunch of different people, even a few babies and pets, fortunately they're only stuck to people's clothing (or collars, in the case of the pets). Angel whirls around at the pressure at his back, but the speedy one is already gone. He looks around as the fliers are stapled to others...and noting that no one else is hurt by it, he continues on his way inside. The jacket won't come off while he's in public view. Ten minutes later, Quicksilver is long gone, and the Upper West Side has been properly littered with Brotherhood propaganda. The truck is left in the middle of the street, which is of no loss to the Brotherhood, as it was stolen anyway. Category:Logs Category:RPLogs